


Mercy Killing

by snafutype



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Angel of Mercy, Assisted Suicide, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Disability shaming - kind of, Gen, Happy Ending, Henry Whump, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Immortality, Medicinal Drug Use, Mentions of Mental Illness, Mentions of Suicide, Needles, Suicidal Thoughts, secret reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 01:52:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5564413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snafutype/pseuds/snafutype
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's... cowardly, I know, to seek some way to cheat this pain. It's pathetic. But... I'm useless like this. I want to be out there, helping people... That's what I do. And I can't do that when I'm trapped here by this... this pointless injury.</p><p>"I want you to be the one to kill me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Any Other Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ArgylePirateWD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgylePirateWD/gifts).



> My gift fic for the Forever Holiday Exchange for none other than ArgylePirateWD! c:
> 
> I really hope it's to your liking!! I took the prompt of Henry having to endure an injury or illness because it would be suspicious if he suddenly recovered, and combined it with a bit of an immortality reveal. 
> 
> There wasn't meant to be one real pairing throughout, but I am VERY weak for Henry and Iona's relationship, so I gravitated towards that while writing and it ended up pretty relevant to the plot (oops).
> 
> There will be more specific content warnings before each chapter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day like any other, but Henry ends up wishing it was any day but today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Guns/violence.

“You can't be serious. You've got _how many_ records?”

“Well I'm afraid I don't recall the _exact_ count off the top of my head-”

“Eight _hundred_?”

“-And most of them _are_ Abraham's, what with his love for that ridiculous jazz-”

“Wait, you don't like jazz? I thought for _sure_ that kind of thing would be right up your alley.”

“No, Lucas, as I've stated before, I'm a _classicist_.”

“Okay, yeah, but that can't be _all_ you listen to.”

“Well, as a matter of fact-”

“Didn't you ever go to like, a rock concert or something? What bands were popular when you were a teenager?”

Henry nearly choked on a sip of his coffee, cleared his throat, coughed.

“...I've never been to a _rock_ concert. Besides, I've certainly never fancied music with that sort of... _style_. I find it extremely off-putting.”

“Still, with that many records lying around, you must have _some_ good classics, right? Not _classical_ , but like... Some original Led Zeppelin, or Pink Floyd... _Queen_?”

“...I assure you, you'd have to check with Abe to find any sort of thing like that.”

“Jeez, you really _are_ sheltered, doc. Okay, but you have to let me come take a peek. There's gotta be some hidden gems stashed away since you live in a _literal_ antiques shop.”

“Well... All right. But I can't guarantee you won't have to pay for it. I've known Abe to charge an arm and a leg for some of his precious vinyl records, and that was for his best friends.”

“That's fine! I'd be willing to shell out a bit if he turns out to have something rare that I've been looking for!”

Henry chuckled down into his coffee as he and Lucas strolled towards the exit of the police station, amused by the eager sparkle in the young man's eyes. 

“Very well. Feel free to stop by some time, I'm sure you two can have a fine chat about it, since I'm so _ignorant_ after all.”

“What are you boys up to? Headed out for the day?”

The sound of Jo's voice drew Henry's eyes, and he gave her a warm smile as she met them, heading in the same direction.

“Yes, it was a bit of a slow day. Not quite enough murders in New York to keep this ME's office fully stocked, apparently.”

Jo snorted and shook her head at the macabre joke, pushing the door to the station open and holding it for Henry and Lucas to pass through.

“Wanna grab a bite to eat? I was just taking a break, not all of us are lucky enough to not be saddled with piles of paperwork.”

“That sounds lovely, actually. What do you say, Lucas?”

“Uh, sure! I'm not doing anything right now.”

“Great! We could go to the diner around the corner? I think-”

But Henry wouldn't have a chance to hear what Jo thought. The attention of all three was suddenly caught by a particular man standing directly in front of the station, a wild, desperate look in his eye that Henry had seen in plenty of men before, and never with good results.

Time seemed to slow as he watched the man reach into his coat, and Henry could feel cold dread course through him. There was only a moment to anticipate, to calculate, to move, to _protect_ \- 

He stepped in front of Jo and Lucas, an arm thrust out to keep them back, as the first bullets pelted past and screams began to echo around them. He could _feel_ Jo going for her gun, trying to push Henry out of the way to safety, could hear her yelling at him to get down, to _run_ -

A bullet ripped through his side and no matter how many years he lived, he would never become accustomed to that kind of pain. It _burned_ and he stumbled, grimacing. But he had to stay standing, had to protect the others, it didn't matter how many bullets he took as long as it wasn't _them_ -

Another pierced his stomach and this one lodged there, molten and painful, and then there was a third, and suddenly it was very hard to breath. Lucas was grabbing at him and shouting something, there were other voices screaming and calling out, but Henry was too heavy now, he was falling, someone's arms lowering him to the ground.

He vaguely registered as the man in front of him fell as well, could see Jo shift into his line of vision, gun drawn but apparently unharmed, her shot most likely the one to take the man down.

_Well done, Jo._

Lucas was kneeling over him, pressing a hand to his side and speaking to him, but Henry couldn't hear any of his words, even as others crowded around, contributing to the dull chaos surrounding them. All that mattered now was that Lucas and Jo were safe. He had done what he needed to, and now all he could do was lie and wait. Death would be a relief from the burning ache in his abdomen, and the thought of that almost made him smile.

Though... it would be a bit hard to explain his sudden disappearance from in front of all these people.

He could deal with that when he resurfaced. For now, darkness was coming to claim him, and he welcomed it, sinking into the comforting black with the knowledge that at least his friends were safe for now.


	2. Guardian Angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas and Jo are very protective, and Henry is pouty about not dying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Hospitalization/nurses, medicinal morphine use.

Henry awoke, not to the shocking cold of the river, but to a flare of pain and a deep ache.

He groaned, shifting to sit up and feeling a piercing sensation in his stomach and just behind his ribs, and he fell back against the pillow, gasping for breath that he couldn't quite seem to fully capture.

Jo was at his side in an instant, shushing him and telling him to lie still.

“Hey, hey, don't move. It's okay. You're gonna be fine.”

It still took a bleary moment for Henry to register where he was. _I'm medicated with morphine_ , he thought to himself, which explained the sluggishness of his thoughts.

“I'm in the hospital,” he managed aloud, voice hoarse and scratchy.

“Yeah,” Jo replied, a damp smile curving her lips. “Do you remember what happened? At the police station?”

“Yes,” Henry answered. _I was shot. I was dying. They were going to discover my secret._

His brow furrowed and he looked around, noticed Lucas sleeping curled in a chair beside his bed before his gaze dragged back to Jo's face hovering above his own.

“I didn't die.”

“No, thank god. It was close, though. Luckily there was an ambulance right nearby. You lost a lot of blood, they had to dig two bullets out of you, and you've been out for... a while, but you're alive.” She grasped at his hand, giving it a tight squeeze, and swiped at a tear that was threatening to drip as she beamed down at him.

He managed a weak smile, a slight squeeze back of her hand.

 _Luckily._ Luckily, his secret wasn't revealed, but at the same time... If he had died...

If he had died, he wouldn't be in such numbing pain right now, his breaths shallow and piercing with every inhale, a dull throb in his midsection that made him wince as he tried to shift. 

Jo patted his arm, untangled her hand from his.

“I should probably get the nurse. They'll probably want to check up on you now that you're awake.”

She hurried around to the other side of the bed, gently shook Lucas's shoulder.

“Lucas. Lucas, he's awake. Keep an eye on him while I get the nurse, okay?”

Lucas stirred with a groan before Jo's words registered, and he snapped up suddenly, breaking into a relieved, lop-sided grin. 

“Hey, doc. Welcome back.”

Henry managed a weak laugh that turned into a quiet groan of pain, and Lucas was at his side in a moment. 

“Lucas... How long have you been sleeping here?”

“Oh, y'know, not that long...” The other man shuffled, gaze averted as he ran a hand through his hair. “They didn't let us in the first day, but Jo and I have been taking turns since then, the chair isn't too uncomfortable once you get used to it after a couple nights...”

“A... A couple nights?” Henry frowned in disbelief, struggling to push himself up before Lucas urged him back down, and he had to take a few shallow breaths before he could speak again. “You've been here for... days?”

Lucas let out a nervous little laugh, fingers picking at the thin hospital bed blanket absent-mindedly. “Well... yeah, of course. We weren't just going to leave you here alone, we wanted to be here i-if... when you woke up.”

Henry couldn't help a soft huff of irritation. None of this would have happened if he had just _died_... He wouldn't be in pain, Jo and Lucas wouldn't have had to fret over him for days, no doubt missing work just to sit by his sickbed...

Then again, if he _had_ died, in front of all those people... Things would be much more difficult than they were right now.

Would he even have been able to return to work in the ME's office? Would he even have been able to stay in New York? Would he ever have been able to see Jo or Lucas or any of his other acquaintances again?

To be perfectly honest, the idea of cutting all ties and fleeing was quite disheartening. Henry had grown close to his fellows at the police department, had grown accustomed to their company and, dare he say, friendship. 

Perhaps surviving the shooting had its benefits. He didn't have to leave behind Jo or Lucas or anyone else, at the risk of suffering a little physical damage that would heal... eventually.

(It wasn't as if he didn't have plenty of time to get over his injuries.)

(But it would be so much faster if he could just disappear and pop back up in the river, fully healed and none the worse for wear...)

Henry's train of thought was interrupted by the return of Jo with the nurse, who shooed the other two out of the room, explaining she had some tests to do. Jo gave a wave and a small, reassuring smile as she headed out the door.

“We'll be right outside, Henry. We're not going anywhere.”

Henry managed a weak smile in return, unsure if he should consider that a good thing or not.


	3. Angel of Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old familiar face comes to visit, and Henry is unaccustomed to this much pain, or morphine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Extended hospital stay, medicinal morphine use, mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts.

Time passed in measurements of discomfort.

Henry would wake in the middle of the night, wheezing, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth as he struggled to breathe through the pain radiating through his midsection. But either Jo or Lucas or Abe was always there, always ready to summon a nurse for him, squeezing his hand gently or offering him water once morphine eased him back down to a dull ache, lulled his mind back to that haze that wasn't quite sleep.

Other times he would wake up slowly, feeling clear-headed but sore, and could very nearly sit up and talk to whomever was by his bedside. One time he was even allowed one of those terrible trays of hospital food, of which he managed to swallow down some of the pudding before he deemed it more torturous than necessary. Jo laughed at his pickiness and Lucas shamelessly took the rest of the tray for himself, claiming Henry didn't know what he was missing out on.

Things felt normal, and Henry was never alone.

Once, Henry opened his eyes to find the fuzzy image of a blonde woman beside his bed, and he reached out almost subconsciously. _Abigail..._

He blinked, feeling a warm hand taking his, and he cracked a small smile.

“Molly,” he croaked softly, giving her hand a light squeeze. 

She smiled back at him, pulling her chair a little closer beside his bed, and cradled his hand with both of hers. 

“Hi, Henry,” she murmured, reaching up to smooth a hand over his hair. “How are you feeling?”

“...Terrible,” he replied with a wheezing chuckle as he pushed himself up a little, before slumping back into the pillows to catch his breath. “You came to see me.”

“Of course. You did the same for me.” She pressed a light kiss to the side of his hand, gazing at him with that warm, gentle expression she wore so well.

“You didn't have to,” he replied softly, but he was grateful nonetheless. His feelings for Molly Dawes were as strong as ever, and seeing her by his side eased a knot of longing in his chest that he hadn't quite realized was there.

“Well,” her mouth quirked into a playful smile, and she crossed her legs, “now you're the damsel in distress. I couldn't pass up on an opportunity to come care for you, now could I?”

Henry let out a short, breathy laugh, lacing his fingers with Molly's. “I can't say being the damsel is a common fantasy of mine, but I'm certainly not opposed to being rescued by someone such as yourself.” He shifted and winced, a sharp stab of pain suddenly lighting up his side, and he had to lay back, reaching for the button that would allow him some relief. He felt Molly press it into his hand and he squeezed it once, twice, gripping Molly's hand to ground himself before the drugs kicked in and the pain began to recede a bit.

When he opened his eyes again, her mouth was a hard-pressed line of concern, and she rubbed at the back of his hand soothingly. 

“I wish I could do more to help you,” she whispered, and Henry wished he could reach out and brush away the worry creasing her forehead. 

“Not quite the pain you'd like to see me endure, hmm?” he teased with a soft laugh, letting out a quiet sigh as he closed his eyes and sank deeper into the pillows.

He heard Molly utter short, surprised laugh, felt her warm lips curved in a smile against his knuckles.

“If only you could be my angel of mercy,” Henry mumbled, feeling the pull of sleep as the morphine worked its way through his system. “It would be over much more quickly that way.”

With his eyes shut, he couldn't see the way Molly stiffened sharply, though he could feel her squeeze his hand tightly in her own.

“Henry, _no_ ,” she breathed, and he cracked an eye open to peer at her. “You can't possibly-”

Henry waved his free hand at her, eyes slipping shut again. “Don't worry... I would come back.” He almost smiled at the thought, though he had to yawn from the bone-deep exhaustion he suddenly felt. “If I died, I'd come back, all better... Ready to be your hero...”

Sleep was claiming him, his grip on Molly's hand slackening as his breathing evened out into a slow, steady rhythm, and he slipped back into the dark comfort of unconsciousness.


	4. Unbearable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over two hundred years of life, and Henry's never before had to deal with this much pain for this long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Slight disability shaming, mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts, mentions of mental illness.

Abraham drove him home from the hospital almost exactly a week later.

Jo and Lucas had returned to work after a few days, reluctantly, but things were piling up without them around and Henry had shooed them away, promising he would be fine without their constant vigilance.

“You'll let us know if you need anything, yeah?” Jo had insisted, with Lucas nodding emphatically.

Henry had agreed, though he was rather certain neither of them would want to provide what he _truly_ needed.

Molly had left as she'd arrived, suddenly, but not without an apology that she had her own work to attend do. “I'll come by to visit,” she had murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his temple, “as long as that's all right?” 

“Of course,” he had replied. He couldn't deny her presence, not now that he realized just how much he had been missing it.

The drive home with Abe was quiet and pensive. Henry had been discharged with orders to stay on bedrest for at least a week, then only minimal activity after that as he continued to heal. 

He didn't expect it to be that difficult, but there was no way to avoid the stairs up to their apartment. Even with Abe's assistance, it took a good half hour to make it most of the way up, with Henry sweating and in need of a rest every few steps. He might be an immortal, but that didn't make the pain any less real, or damage to his lung any less incapacitating. 

“Abe,” he gritted out as he slumped against the wall, staring with loathing at the remaining six steps. “I think I would rather die than go through this for much longer.”

Abe pressed his lips together, frowning slightly up at his father.

“You don't think that would be kinda suspicious? Suddenly you're all better and right back to work, after getting shot three times?”

Henry huffed and shook his head. “I could stay at home for a week or two, taking it easy, and be cautious when I return to work. It's not like I'm about to go running any marathons to show off my good health.” He leveled his gaze at Abe, still trying to catch his breath. “I don't want to be in this much pain any longer.”

Abe stared back at him for a moment longer before he dropped his gaze and nodded. “Let's get you to bed,” he muttered. “Then we'll figure something out.”

––– 

Henry fell asleep almost immediately, exhausted by the simple ordeal of coming home, and he slept through most of the day. Abe brought him soup when he awoke, with no mention of their prior conversation. 

Henry kept quiet as well, knowing Abe would bring it up again when he felt comfortable.

After Henry finished eating, Abe took his bowl, but paused beside his bed.

“I, ah. I called Iona. She said she'd really like to see you. Are you feeling up to it?”

Henry blinked in surprise, leaning back against his pillows. “Well... Yes, I suppose-”

“Great, I'll send her up.” Abe bustled towards the stairs before Henry could object, leaving him to lay there, somewhat confused and bewildered.

A few minutes later there was a soft knock on the bedroom door, and Molly slipped inside.

“You look like you've got a bit of color back,” she commented with a smile as she approached the bed, hands clasped in front of her.

“Yes, well, the hospital deemed me too bothersome to keep around, so...” He gestured around himself and smiled slightly, “Here I am.”

Molly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her expression turning somewhat apprehensive as she carefully perched on the edge of the bed. 

“Henry-” she began, pausing to run a hand over the bedspread before looking up at him. “I wanted to talk to you, about something you said in the hospital. Do you remember what it was?”

Henry's brow furrowed slightly, and he gave a slow shake of his head. “I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific. A lot of it is...” He waved a hand, gesturing, “Hazy, hard to remember.”

Molly pressed her lips together, meeting his gaze and holding it as she rested a hand on his arm lightly.

“You mentioned that... well, that you wished I was an... 'angel of mercy'. You seemed to be implying that it be a lot easier if you... died.”

Henry stilled, feeling a pang of guilt at not remembering saying such a thing. “...Ah.”

“...And that's not all. You also said, well...” Molly's gaze dropped to her lap, and she let out a soft, unsure laugh. “You said that if you died, you'd come back, and you'd be all better again.” She looked up at him, confusion and concern written across her face. “Henry... What did you mean by that?”

The immortal averted his eyes, searching for some reasonable explanation for his drug-induced truths.

Molly let out a soft sigh, continuing when Henry didn't speak right away. “Because from what I can tell, the only kind of person who thinks they can survive death is someone with an _extreme_ messiah complex, or some other sort of schizophrenic behavior-”

Henry cut in, borderline indignant. “I'm not-”

Molly raised a hand, and he fell silent, letting her finish. “But I know the man I... I _fell_ for isn't one of those kinds of people. So there must be some other explanation for what you said to me.” She looked up at him expectantly, folding her hands in her lap. “No matter how outlandish it might be, I know there is some reason that is the truth.”

Henry let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of the situation tipping precariously before him.

On the one hand, he could attempt to fabricate some lie to explain what he had said, claim that he was drug-induced into talking nonsense, or otherwise distract Molly from the truth, even if it meant lying to her face. He had done it plenty of times before, to many other people, for his own sake, to keep his secret from getting out. 

Or, on the other hand, he could tell the truth. Tell the truth and pray that she believed him, wouldn't scoff at him or deem him insane, even report him to a mental institution for being completely delusional. 

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Henry met Molly's gaze as he considered his options. Something Abraham had said to him a while ago surfaced in his memory, and he clasped his hands together in thought. _You need someone to confide in, Henry. Someone you can trust, that you can depend on._

Molly was someone he was willing to put his trust in, almost completely. He felt safe with her, comfortable, and something about the way she looked at him made him feel as though she would do her best to be understanding no matter what he told her. Even if it was something she'd never heard of before and would find hard to believe... he owed her the truth.


	5. Angel of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heavy explanation, and a heavier request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Assisted suicide, needles.

“...An immortal,” Molly repeated.

Henry nodded mutely, watching her face quietly as familiar emotions shifted across her expression: disbelief, confusion, mistrust.

“I know what you're thinking. I must be ill in the head, this is all part of some mad delusion brought on by my injuries or some such thing, but... I assure you, what I'm saying is the truth.”

He met her gaze with a look that felt almost pleading. He _needed_ her to trust him, to believe him. He had opened himself up, made himself vulnerable, and now all he could ask for was acceptance. 

“The reason I'm telling you all this is that... It truly would be better if I died. I've done it countless times before, and every time I... come back, I'm as good as new.” He touched a hand lightly to his chest. “The only scar I keep is the one from my first death.”

“This is... quite a lot to take in,” Molly murmured quietly, but when Henry risked a glance up to search her face, she looked thoughtful. “And so... I assume Abe knows about this? Who else have you told?”

Henry lightly shook his head. “You're the first to know, besides Abraham. And, well, of course, there was Abigail...”

Molly tipped her head curiously. “Abigail? ...Ah. So that's her name.”

Henry gave a slight nod, gaze dropping to the bedspread as he toyed with the edge lightly. “Yes. That's... that was...”

Molly reached out and placed a hand lightly over Henry's. “You don't need to explain. This may be... completely different than what I was expecting, but...” She shook her head, still somewhat disbelieving, but managed a small smile at him. “But it somehow still makes sense. I don't know what it is, but it fits you, Henry.” She let out a light laugh, pressed a hand to the side of her face. “I'm not sure I even _believe_ it, but-”

“You could see for yourself.” Henry pushed himself up, letting out a low groan as his brow furrowed in pain, but when he looked up, he was resolute. “I've already talked to Abraham about it, and... I'd rather not suffer through this when there is an easy solution sitting before me.”

Molly opened her mouth, either from shock or to say something, when a light knock came on the door and Abe entered the room.

“Ah yes, Abraham, I've been expecting you. If you could put it there, please.” He gestured at the table beside him, and Abe approached to set down a small black case.

“It's... cowardly, I know, to seek some way to cheat this pain. It's _pathetic_. But... I'm useless like this. I want to be out there, _helping_ people... That's what I do. And I can't do that when I'm trapped here by this... this _pointless_ injury.”

He watched as Abe open the case, drawing out a syringe and a small bottle of amber liquid, and met Molly's eyes. They both watched quietly as Abe filled the syringe from the bottle, sobered by the process.

“Henry, I...”

“I want you to do it, Molly.”

Abe's head snapped towards Henry and he immediately protested. “Henry, you can't possibly be-”

“I want you to be the one to kill me.”

“Henry-!”

Molly quieted Abe with a gentle hand on his arm, and the room was silent for a moment, heavy with tension as Molly gazed at Henry.

“All right.”

“Henry, you can't be serious-”

“I'll do it. If... if he wants me to be the one to do it, I will.” She looked up to Abe, taking a slow breath and holding out her hand for the syringe.

The older man seemed to struggle internally for several long moments, before he let out a huff of a sigh and carefully placed it in her hand, taking a step back out of the way.

Molly stood, leaning over Henry's side to tug his sleeve up, and carefully tucked her hair behind her ear as she glanced up at him.

“...You're sure this is what you want? That... it'll work the way you want it to?”

Henry offered her a warm, reassuring smile, reaching up to brush his fingers over her cheek. She turned into the touch, pressing a soft kiss to his palm.

“Yes. This is very much what I want.” He sighed softly and laid back against the pillows, stretching his arm out for her. “Abe knows what to do once it's done. You'll see. This is for the best.”

Molly bent to arrange Henry's arm, laying the tip of the syringe against his skin as she chewed her lower lip, a stray tear slipping down her cheek. Henry reached up with his free hand to brush it away, frowning slightly as he caught her gaze.

“You trust me, yes?” he murmured, searching her eyes. She gave a short nod, carefully letting out a slow breath.

“But-”

“Shh. It will all work out. Go ahead. You'll see.”

Molly glanced at Abe, tears running more freely now, but he simply gave a small nod of reassurance. She sniffed slightly, wiping at her face, before bending her head to her task. Swiftly, in one movement, she slid the needle into Henry's vein and emptied the syringe, letting out a quiet gasp once it was done.

Henry could feel the poison immediately going to work, but thankfully Abe had chosen one of the gentler ones, and he merely smiled as his eyes began to slip shut.

“Thank you... my angel...” he murmured, and he could feel Molly's warm lips pressing to his forehead before he was being swallowed up in darkness and memories, brightness and pain fading away as he slipped towards the familiarity of death.

––– 

Henry surfaced in the river, and it _felt_ like a rebirth.

He gulped at the cold air, could feel it fill his lungs, and there was no pain, no sharp sensation preventing him from taking another full breath, and another, and he laughed aloud.

He took a moment to bask in the feeling before he started swimming towards shore, knowing that soon enough, Abe's car would pull up, he'd be offered a towel and a warm set of clothes, and everything would return to normal.

Only this time, he could look forward to someone else waiting for him as well, waiting to welcome him back home, safe and sound and healthy and _alive_. 

One more person with whom he could trust his secret, with whom he could share part of his long, long story.


End file.
